


The Hobbit: The Unexpected Adventure

by Every_Fandom_At_Once



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: #SaveFili, #SaveKili, #SaveThemAll, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Dysfunctional Family, How Do I Tag, I Tried, I needed more family feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-06-23 20:02:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19708411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Every_Fandom_At_Once/pseuds/Every_Fandom_At_Once
Summary: A teen from an apocalyptic world is dragged into Middle Earth via trash can. She lands in the Shire one year before the quest for the Lonely Mountain. P.S. do you think elves would make good flags?





	1. Chapter 1

Her breathing was ragged. Her lungs burned and her tongue felt like a piece of sandpaper. She was determined to keep going, she had to. Her life literally depended on it. She couldn't stop, at least not yet the moaning sounds of the zombies were still too close. A few more minutes went by before she risked glancing back. They were farther back now, she could no longer make out where one body of rotting flesh began and where another ended. Slowing down to a jog she went on for a little while longer. She went on till she could no longer see anything behind her. Panting, she slowed to a walk.

“Huuuuu boy,” she said stretching. Breathing in deeply then exhaling harshly. “I hate when that happens.” Stopping to stare at the houses lining the street, she picked the least rundown.  
As she made her way to the abandoned house she upholstered her gun. Holding it at the ready, she made her way in. The door creaked as she forced it open. Cautiously making her way inside she decided it looked bigger on the outside. The front hall was an open space, the stairs were off to the left. She ignored them for now. Opting instead to head down the hallway to the right. She kept close to the walls as she moves forward, listening for any sounds that would indicate danger. The hallway leads to a dining room which opened up into a kitchen. Across the hall from the dining room was a bathroom and an office. She cleared the downstairs rooms, making note of the kitchen as she walked back to the front of the house. Inching her way up the stairs she discovered a landing that narrowed into a thin hall. There were four doors in this hall. Three lead to bedrooms the other to another bathroom, all of them, however, were empty of life. Searching the entire house and finding no dangers she declared it safe.

“Home sweet temporary home,” she muttered holstering her gun. She walked back down the stairs. Pausing to lock to the front door, then heading in the direction of the kitchen. She made a beeline for the pantry hoping to find some surviving food items. The pantry was small with lots of shelving. It looked like it hadn't been touched for a while, there was a fine layer of dust coating everything. She moved towards the closest items to her. Coughing as the dust got in her lungs when she swiped it away from the label on a protein bar, she was disappointed to see the expiration date was a month ago.

“Those are just suggestions.” She muttered, placing the box of them off to the side. Still willing to eat them if she could find nothing else. Moving on to the next group of items, her day was made, there were 7 cans of food.

“Cans of what is the real question,” going to pick one up she was finally able to make out the label that read ‘Peaches’. “Yes!” she exclaimed her smile stretching wider. She didn’t use to get so excited over peaches. The thought made her laugh bitterly, her good mood momentary slipping away. She used to get excited about new movies or going on vacation in the summer. That was two years ago, She was almost sixteen now. Looking through the rest of the cans she found another peach, three cans of peas and three cans of soup. One tomato, another chicken noodle, and the last a vegetable soup. Continuing on she found stale crackers and chips, some uncooked rice, uncooked noodles. She left the rice and pasta reasoning that she couldn't waste valuable water on cooking.

This was one of the best houses she had ever squatted in. They even had bottled water. It was obvious to her that this place has not been ransacked until now. She dug around in her backpack for her water bottles.  
“Where are….ah HA!” She called out triumphantly, pulling out her two large, metal, water bottles. “There you are.” she put the two down in front of her before pulling the third from its place hanging from the side of her bag. She unscrewed them all and fill them with the water from the bottled water. Screwing the caps back on she places them back in their proper spots. She plops herself down right there in the pantry and reaches for a leftover bottle of water. She takes a sip sighing in contentedness as it soothes her dry mouth. She reaches for a bag of stale chips, opens it, and starts to eat them. Chasing them down with the heavenly tasting water. When she was full and the bottle empty she packed her bag with the food items she had scavenged. She had a large tactical backpack she had found in an army surplus store. It held everything she needed. She started a mental checklist as she repacked.  
Two changes of clothing  
Can opener  
Mess kit  
her water bottles...definitely couldn't forget them.  
Canned food  
A coat,  
Two boxes of ammo for her gun,  
Some hygiene supplies, like soap and toothpaste and feminine products.  
The bag also held little baubles she had grown attached to over her *travels*. After packing she went upstairs and into the bedroom that she guessed belonged to a girl. To raid the closet. Her mouth pulled downwards into a frown, sure it was clean and relatively new but none of the clothes were more functional than what she had. She sighed and looked at her clothing in the mirror hanging from the closet door. Her brown t-shirt was covered in blood, grass and dirt stains. Her cargo pants had the same stains and were tucked into her black combat boots. Her semi-automatic rested in a gun holster strapped to her thigh and her machete hung from her belt. Her arms were covered in dirt and scrapes. Her hair was filthy, it looked browner then it did her norman auburn. Her bright green eyes had dulled, and she had bags under them like she hadn't slept well in weeks. Her cheeks were marred with dirt. She looked awful.  
“I need a shower,” she informed her reflection, before dragging her eyes away from the mirror and swung her bag off her shoulder and placed it on the side of the bed. She fell back onto the bed not taking off her boots or gun. She fell asleep on her back one hand by her face the other resting on her gun.

Sunlight streaming through the window woke her up. Swinging her legs over the bed she reached for her bag. Bringing it towards her she dug threw to it to find some crackers. Opening it she just sat there and crunched on them. Allowing herself to wake up slowly. Once the bag was empty she picked up her bag from its place beside the bed. Swinging it onto her back she clipped the front straps together to keep it from slipping off. She quickly and quietly left the house. On the lookout for zombies or unfriendly people, she surveyed the street outside. After she was sure it was clear, she started to walk.

She was still walking hours later but she was surrounded by skyscrapers now. The tall, towering buildings looked worn down. Some of the windows were broken, doors open. There was trash littering the sidewalks, the wind even blowing some paper down the street like tumbleweeds. If this was a movie she might have scoffed. But this wasn't. This was real. This area, even, wasn’t a particularly safe place to be, nowhere really was anymore, but especially not in a city. Going through them, however, was faster than going around. 

*CLANG* She spun, startled, toward the sound. It had come from the ally to her right. Pulling out her gun she slowly moved towards the sound. Making her footsteps as quiet as possible she slipped into the ally. Stalking forward she checked behind the first dumpster she came across. Nothing. She kept to the wall as she moved further in. Checking behind everything that was large enough to hide someone behind. There was one more large dumpster at the end of the ally. Smaller, metal, trash cans had fallen around it.  
‘That probably was the source of the noise’ she thought as she crept toward it. Moving around the smaller cans she sharply turned 90 degrees. Nothing.

“Huh?” She gave a breathy laugh. Still looking around warily. “I could have sworn I-“ She was cut off as her feet were pulled out from under her. She gave a surprised yelp as she fell. Crashing to the ground, all the air in her lungs left her. Gasping for breath she looked at her feet. Nothing. There was nothing. No hands as she expected there to be. And that was what freaked her out most about this situation. She was getting pulled by nothing, how could she fight back? Her feet disappeared first. Followed by her knees. She struggled. Trying to find something, anything that could help her. Her stomach was under now. She had had to twist her body to avoid having her ribs smashed constantly against the edge of the dumpster. She tried pushing against the edge. For all the amount she pushed against the metal, the thing pulled harder. She was just hanging on now. Everything but her arms, the tops of her shoulders and head were gone. It gave one last violent tug. Then she was gone.

(Hobbiton, Third Age 2940)

When she next woke up there was a very small man staring at her. ‘Maybe man isn't quite the right word.’ she thought while staring at the creature in front of her. He was short and couldn't have been more than three feet tall. His hair fell in ringlets and almost covered his ears. Which she was startled to notice ended in a curved point. His clothing was slightly odd as in he looked like he was from the 18th century. An embroidered vest over a white shirt tucked into pants, odd pants but pants, that ended at his calves. This was not the oddest thing about him, however, what was most alarming about him was his feet. They were probably the same size as a grown mans maybe even bigger and the top of them was covered in a tuft of hair. The hair started at the curve where foot met leg and stopped just before his toes. That she could see because he wasn't wearing shoes.  
“Uh….A-Are you alright Miss?” The man asked nervously. She stares at him trying to evaluate his threat level.

“I believe so,” She said slowly while pushing herself up into a sitting position.

“Oh good,” He sounded relieved. “I had believed you to be dead when I first saw you.”-he smiled-”I'm glad you’re alright.” She relaxed a bit and decided that the man was genuinely concerned. 

“I’m glad I’m alright too,” She joked with a small smile. “I’m Razena Ryan, nice to meet you.” 

“It's a pleasure to meet you as well, I’m Bilbo Baggins.”

“Well Mr. Baggins, could you tell me where we are?”

He paused. “The Shire, lady Ryan, are you quite sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah I’m good, but here's the thing. I was in a place called Little Rock, Arkansas,” she started to panic. “I was in Little Rock, now I’m here.” Razena’s lips pursed together and she took a deep breath trying to stop the breakdown she was on the verge of having. “ I don't suppose you happen to know the way back to Arkansas?” At his negatory answer, she sighed “Of course not.” 

“Where is Arkansas?” Bilbo inquired.

“It is the US, it’s to the right of Texas.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve never heard of a US.”

“The united states of America? Canada? Mexico? Nothing?” she was getting desperate now.  
Bilbo shook his head. She laughed, hysterically. Only half noticing Bilbo's concerned look.  
He glanced at the sky. 

“It’s getting pretty late, why don't you stay with me tonight. Just until we figure out where you come from and how to get you bac-”  
“No!” she cried cutting him off. ”I don't want to go back.” Why would I? She thought. I’d rather stay here, I don’t know where here is but it’s got to be better.  
“Alright,” he continued once he got over his shock. “You don’t have to go back. Still, stay with me till we can figure out somewhere for you to go.” She stopped laughing to stare at him, amazed, mouth open.

“You’ve only just met me!” her eyebrows tried to disappear into her hairline. “I could be a murderer for all you know! Or you could be a murderer.” 

“I think you’re lost, clearly far, far from home, and in need of some help. I’m certainly not a murderer.” his stance was open, honest. She didn't know this place, and the sun was going down. It painted beautiful purples, pinks, and oranges across the horizon. Without the sun the forest around them was getting darker. And while Razena was sure she could survive outside, alone. She didn't want to. She smiled up at Bilbo.

“Thank you.” Bilbo just smiled.

“Right then, this way,” He turned and gestured for Razena to follow. She scrambled to her feet not wanting to be left behind. The walk there was beautiful. The rolling hills were covered in green grass and golden field of what might have been wheat. When they got to the top of one of the hills, Razena stared wide-eyed. There where little men and women everywhere. Some were transporting goods buy a cart that was pulled but a pony, others were walking down pathways like the one she and Bilbo were on. Most had smiles on their faces as the leisurely went about their days. Greeting each other as the past, it seemed like everybody knew everybody or if not everyone than close to it.

“Woah,” She breathed standing stock still. It's so peaceful. She caught Bilbo watching, he seemed caught between concern and content. He continued walking and a few seconds later she followed. During their walk down the path, they passed many small people with large hairy feet.

“Mr.Baggins I don’t want to be rude, really, but what are you?” 

“Just Bilbo’s fine and I’m a hobbit.” He answered showing no sign of offense.

“A hobbit?” I tilted my head to look at him as we walked.

“We’re not well known outside the Shire, it’s so rare that any of us travel.” Explained waving at some of the other Hobbits we passed by. They all gave me a wide berth glancing at me nervously.

“There aren't any hobbies where I come from.”

“Really?” He asked an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, just humans…” She trailed off, ending the conversation. It wasn't long after that, that they arrived at a round green door leading into the side of a hill.


	2. Chapter 2

As Bilbo and I walked through the doorway, I had to bend down a slightly to keep from banging my head on the door frame. I straightened as soon as I was in and bashed my forehead against a hanging chandelier. I reared backward holding my head, groaning.

“Owwwww,” I glared at the offending object, rubbing my throbbing head. “Stupid chandelier.”  
I heard a cough from behind me, Mr.Bilbo was probably trying not to laugh at me. Recovering his composer, he leads me down the hall towards what I assume are the bedrooms.

“That one’s mine if you need anything,” He pointed toward the only closed door in the hall. “You’re free to choose a room, all the others are open.”

I looked down the hallway amazed. ”Wow! Are all of these bedrooms?” I asked poking my head into several rooms.

“Oh yes, this smial was built with a great deal more hobbits in mind. I-” He swallowed. “I live alone at the moment. Lots of empty space,” He got this far off look in his eyes and his lips turned down at the corners.

“Smial?” I asked hoping to distract him.

“Oh,” He blinked, his eyes clearing. “That’s what we call our homes.” 

I poked through the rooms again before deciding on the one with a window. After making sure both the door and the window had locks. Just because I was pretty sure Bilbo wouldn’t do anything, didn’t mean I was right.  
Better to just be cautious, I thought, testing the locks. I looked around the rest of the room. The walls and floors were wooden but there was a rug that peaked out from under the bed. The bed itself had wooden posts, cream-colored sheets, and a colorful quilt. It looked a little small, I imagined my feet would just peak over the end. It must be huge for hobbits. Most of them looked to be around Mr. Bilbo's size. I stood at a good five foot seven. Just an inch above average. I usually wasn’t the tallest but at the same time, I wasn’t the shortest. The dresser was pushed off close to the right corner and maybe came up to my hip. Next to the dresser in the corner of the room was a chair. It looked strong enough to hold me. Even if it looked like it would be a bit awkward, like going back to your elementary school and sitting in a first graders chair.

“I’ll run you a bath, then cook us some supper, I quite believe we’ve missed dinner,” Bilbo informed me before walking off to the bathroom down the hall. I scrunched up my face, confused. 

“Aren't they the same?” I muttered, dropping my bag on the chair near the window. Deciding it was too dirty to put on the bed. I pulled out a pair of tan cargo pants, a black tank top, and some underwear and debated grabbing my limited, ever-shrinking supply of soap.

“Mr. Baggins?” I called turning to the hall. “Do you have soap I could use?”

“Of course,” He walked back down the hall. “The bathroom’s this way.” He leads me down the hall which curved a little. He stopped at a door before opening it. Inside the sink and toilet were right next to each other. There was a chair and some shelving across from them and in the far corner, there was a tub filled with steaming water. “The bar is for your skin and the bottle is for your hair.” I stepped into the bathroom and gave him a thankful look.

“Thanks for this Mr. Baggins, I really appreciate it.”

“It’s really no problem,” He waved me off. “I’ll get supper going while you bathe. And as I said before you can call me Bilbo.” He headed towards the kitchen and I shut the door turning to the chair to set my stuff down. I locked the door before striping. Setting my gun and machete carefully on the sink and throwing everything else carelessly onto the floor. I climbed into the bath and sighed as my muscles relaxed in the hot water. I wondered for a second where the hot water came from. As there wasn't a faucet leading into the tub, there was, however, a pipe for draining the water. I noticed the pump behind the shelving, it was the kind I used to see in movies. With the lever behind the spout. That still, didn't explain why the water was hot. I was pretty sure hot water didn't come out of those. I decided a minute later that I really didn’t care and began washing. The water turned a darker and darker shade of brown until it looked like mud. I finished quickly, wanting to get out of the muddy water as fast as humanly possible. After getting out, I reached into the tub and pulled the plug holding the water in. I rubbed dry with the towel being careful of the scrapes I had discovered on my forearms. I figured they must have been scratched by the edge of the dumpster in my desperate attempt to hold on. They hadn't hurt until I had rubbed soap over them. Like putting hand sanitizer in a paper cut you have no idea was there. After putting my clothes and boots on, I picked up my stuff and opened the door. I walked out, arms full. Wandering down the hall in the direction I thought the kitchen was in. I was very careful to watch my head not wanting a repeat of earlier.

“Mr. Bilbo?” I called. I heard shuffling before Mr.Bilbo's head peeked around a corner from the end of the hall.

“In the kitchen, lady Ryan.”

“Razena,” I corrected heading over to where I had seen his head. “What should I do with my clothes?” He turned and raised his eyebrow seemingly amused.

“Give them to me, Miss Razena I’ll wash them.” I scrunched my face up at the use of miss, but I suppose it was fair, I had called him Mr. Bilbo. I rolled my eyes. 

“I can wash them,” I insisted. “You’re already doing so much for me.”

“It’s no trouble, I assure you.” He smiled, kindly.

“Alright, Mr. Bilbo, but only this once,” I gave in, handing my clothes over to him keeping my weapons.

“Right supper’s almost ready. It should be done as soon as I’m done washing these,” he lifted my clothing a bit, before walking away.

“Is there anything I can do help?” I asked following him down the hall. He glanced back.

“Oh no, no, I’ve got it, what kind of host would I be if I asked you to work.”

“You’re not asking me,” I argued. “I’m offering. I don’t have anything to repay you with sooo,” I shrugged, “I figured I’d do chores or tasks you don’t want to do. Help out, so I’m not a complete freeloader.” Bilbo stopped and turned to stare at me. 

“If you must insist on helping,” he sighed. “I left supper over the fire could you keep it from boiling over?”

I grinned feeling better with something to do. “You got it!” I about-faced and walked back to my chosen room to put my stuff down. I slipped the pocket knife I kept in my boot into my pocket for better access. Then quickly walked back to the kitchen. 

I noticed the abnormally large pantry across the hall from the dining. The kitchen was large with a small table in the middle. There was a large stone fireplace with a pot hanging over it. Above the pot was a place for a plate to be placed like a stovetop. Bilbo's cast iron pots and pans were hanging from hooks in the ceiling. Under the circle window overlooking the garden, was a sink that’s handle was also pump. The countertops were made of gray stone, and the cabinets under it a dark wood. I inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of the cooking stew. My mouth began to water. It had been a while since I had last been able to eat a home-cooked meal. I sat there, silently for a few minutes before growing bored. Searching my mind for the last song I had heard I began whistling. I could only remember half so I just repeated it over and over. The liquid in the pot hanging over the fire bubbled higher and higher. With some alarm, I noticed it was close to boiling over. I stood quickly, knocking the chair back but not over. Staring at the pot, I realized I didn’t know what to do. What do I do?! Do I take it off the flame? Put the fire out? I decide taking it off the fire was the best idea. My head swiveled desperately trying to find something to pick up the hot pot with. I spotted a cloth hanging off a cabinet handle. 

“That'll work,” I grabbed it and using it like a glove grabbed the handle of the pot. I hefted it off the hook almost spilling it from miss judging the weight. Then set it down on the counter. “There,” I said nodding my head once. “Now it won't boil over.” I let it sit like that until it was no longer boiling up the sides then put it back over the fire. Bilbo walked in a few moments later.

“Oh, good, it hasn't boiled over.”

“It almost did,” I laughed. “I took it off let it cool for a bit.” 

“Oh, well wonderful, thank you. Take a seat,” He gestured at the table. “I’ll get us some bowls.” He grabs two bowls and spoons and fills the bowls with stew. He set one in front of me and the other in front of the chair he’s going to sit in. He doesn't sit like I expect him to, however, he moves on to a cabinet and grabs a loaf of bread and a knife. He sets them on the table before going back to the cabinets. He opens one and I’m surprised to find that it’s not a cabinet but an ice chest. I’m not gonna even try to figure out how that works here. He grabs out the butter before finally sitting down.

“Would you like some bread?” He asks reaching for the knife.

“Sure.” I lifted my spoon to my mouth to blow on some of the stew. 

“With or without butter?” He inquired, pausing to look at me.

“Uh, with butter please.” he hands me a piece of buttered bread before making his own. I stick the first bight of stew in my mouth.

“Oh wow!” I exclaimed. “This is really good Mr.Bilbo!” He beamed and explained to me how complementing a hobbits food was one of the highest compliments one could give. His smile lasted the rest of the night as he patiently answered all of my questions. Like ‘what was the difference between Dinner and Supper?’ Then laughed at my amazed ‘hobbits eat how many meals?’ I could tell laying in my bed that night, full for the first time in a long time, that we were going to be friends.

The next week Bilbo took me to a hobbit seamstress to get me more clothes. We had struck a deal, I dressed and acted somewhat proper in public and in the smial he said I could act however I normally would. I allowed Bilbo to order me some skirts and a dress if he also got me some trousers. I was just thankful that Hobbits ended their skirts around the mid-calf. There weren't any shoes in the Shire because Hobbits didn't need shoes. their soles were like leather. My only pair of shoes were my boots, but I was ok with that. The grass was soft enough that most of the time I was outside without shoes. 

I stayed with Bilbo for two weeks, two turned into four, then to twelve, and I just never left. Bilbo never looked for another home for me either. He asked to Adopt me as his ward on my seventeenth birthday. Most of the hobbits knew me by sight now, if only because I was tall.

One year later.

“I’m going out Bilbo!” I shouted rushing to the door. 

“Be back by Luncheon!” was shouted back at me. I ran down the path, my skirt flying behind me, the sun making the hue of my hair lighter.

I explored the East-farthing woods again, climbed trees and played games with the flaunts of Tookland. When I noticed the position of the sun, I quickly said my goodbyes to the flaunts and sprinted back to bag end. I dropped into a cautious walk once I noticed someone new was talking to Bilbo. Two things made me weary, one was that this male was as tall as I was and the other was Bilbo's body language. He was tense, uncomfortable, and awkward with the man in grey himself or their topic of conversation, I couldn't tell.. I walked a little faster. 

“Good morning,” Bilbo politely dismissed the man and turned to walk inside, still looking uncomfortable.

“To think I should have lived to be ‘good morninged’ by Belladonna Tooks son as If I was selling buttons at the door,” the old grey man barked, offended. Bilbo, squinting turned back to the man.

“I beg your pardon.” 

“You’ve changed, and not entirely for the better, Bilbo Baggins.” 

“Bilbo! I’m back,” I announced, cutting into the conversation. I addressed the man politely. “I don't believe we’ve met, I’m Razena,” 

“I am Gandalf, an old friend of Bilbo's”

“He’s never mentioned you.” I kept a polite smile on my face. Go away. 

“Gandalf,” Bilbo muttered. “Gandalf, not the wandering wizard…who made such excellent fireworks? Old Took used to have them on Midsummer's Eve.” He paused then laughed nervously. “Heh, heh. Ahem. No idea you were still in business.”

Gandalf's eyes narrowed. “And where else should I be.”

“Depends, how old are you?,” I muttered under my breath. His head snapped towards me.

“What was that, my dear?” 

“Uh. Nothing,” I said quickly, probably too quickly if the smug face was anything to go off of. He turned back to Bilbo.

“Well, I’m glad you remember something about me, even if it is just my fireworks.” He nodded as if we’d just decided something important. “So it’s decided. It’ll be very good for you,” He glanced over at me and I felt if I was included in that statement. “And very amusing for me. I shall inform the others.”

Wait, what? “Others? What others?” I asked. Bilbo seemed to have the same thought as me. 

“Inform the who? What? No. No. No... Wait. We do not want any adventures here, thank you. Not today. Not… I suggest you try Over the Hill or Across the Water. Good morning. Come inside, Razena,” He rushed to the door. I followed, but I didn't think Gandalf had listened to Bilbo’s protests. Bilbo slammed the door after me, locking it firmly, before handing me the mail. There was a scratching sound on the door, he peeked out the window trying to find out what Gandalf was doing. He jumped back a second later in surprise when Gandalf's’ face popped into the window like a jack in the box. He very quickly walked to a different window. I glanced out the window he abandoned. All I could see was the back of gray robes and a ridiculous pointy hat.

“What was that about Bilbo?”

“Nothing, absolutely nothing.” he seemed to be trying to convince himself. I didn't believe him. I knew it had something to do with an adventure, a weird old wizard and whoever the others were. I didn't push it though, I had a feeling he knew as much as I did. Though I had a feeling we’d be finding out what was going on soon.

“Alright, What's for lunch?” I smiled, changing the subject.

He breathed a sigh of relief and proceeded to explain to me what he’d prepared.


End file.
